


holding on with fingers and feelings alike

by JourEtNuit



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Minor Violence, Young Avengers inspired AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 05:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19968907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JourEtNuit/pseuds/JourEtNuit
Summary: "Why would I even want to join your team of wannabe superheroes?”“Because youwantto be a hero, of course,” Yang replies, confident. “I heard your speech, you obviously wanna do some good in the world. And what you’re already doing is amazing, don’t get me wrong, but look, you saved our asses back there. You got skills, Blake, it’d be a waste not to use all of them for good.” And then Yang winks. “And because I can tell you like me already, princess.”There’s a silence. “The Cooler Avengersis a really stupid name,” Blake points out, unconvincingly. It sounds like a last-ditch effort, especially considering the smile pulling at the corner of her lips.“We’re not set on the name yet,” Yang says, easily, because they’re not, butsheis set onBlake.In which everyone is a superhero, the Young Avengers are the new cool kids, and Yang and Blake cannot stop flirting with each other.





	holding on with fingers and feelings alike

**Author's Note:**

> This is very loosely based on the Young Avengers comics - kudos to you if you recognize which characters were my inspirations for Blake and Yang! Also read the Young Avengers, it's really good.
> 
> I wrote the first part of this a while back, and intended to work on it/write the rest of it for Bumbleby Week - AU day... so yeah, it's basically done a week late, but at least it's done!
> 
> I might write more of this AU, if I have the time/if there are people interested. But for now, I hope you enjoy <3

_Present day, 11am_

_Okay, this is bad_ , Blake thinks, as she jumps from the roof of a thirty-story building right before the top floor explodes.

She twists as she plummets towards the ground and aims one of her grappling hook arrows at the fancy hotel on the other side of the street. Blake’s a highly skilled archer - in fact, some (herself included) might say she’s the best archer in the world. So it’s not a total surprise when her arrow hits its target, but Blake still feels a sharp pang of relief. The hook catches the railing of a beautiful marble balcony, abruptly interrupting her fall, and sending her crashing face first into the hotel facade.

Blake groans, shoulders and wrists reeling from the shock, holding onto the rope for dear life. Her head aches fiercely where it smashed against the wall, and she feels warm blood trickling down her temple. Behind her, bits and pieces of the recently exploded top floor dramatically crumble to the ground. Blake fleetingly wishes someone had filmed the whole thing. Her jumping and firing an arrow mid-air with an explosion in the background? _Badass_.

“What in the _world_ were you thinking?”

Blake looks up to see Weiss perched on the balcony, arms crossed against her chest. Her all-white outfit is pristine, not a stray hair out of her ponytail, and she almost looks _bored_ , as if the lot of them hasn’t been fighting a horde of aliens for the past hour. Blake, bloodied and sore as fuck and dangling from a rope like bait on a fishing rod, frowns at her with mild irritation.

“You’re gonna sit there and be judgmental or you’re gonna help me up?”

Weiss raises a perfect eyebrow. “Great,” Blake grumbles. She rolls her eyes, and starts climbing.

When she makes it up safely onto the balcony floor, she collapses, back against the railing, catching her breath. Weiss pokes her thigh with one very pointy heel. “Please, refrain from throwing yourself off buildings. Remember, you don’t have superpowers, unlike the rest of us. And every time you do something needlessly heroic, Ruby gets a heart attack.”

Right on cue, there’s a high-pitched voice in Blake’s earpiece. “Blake, oh my God, are you okay? I saw that jump, that was way too close!”

Blake sighs, glaring at Weiss like it’s her fault. “I’m fine, Ruby.”

“Well, you could have a concussion. I’m sending Yang over to you.”

“I just said I’m fine!” Blake protests, but Ruby has already cut off the com’. She sits up. Her head _does_ hurt an awful lot. Weiss hops down from the railing, and pats her shoulder, managing to be both consoling and patronizing.

“Stay in one piece. I have to go back before they try and blow up the rest of the building.”

She mumbles a spell, and fades out, teleporting to wherever their leader is. Blake massages her sore shoulder, looking around to take in her surroundings - and that’s when she sees them. Twenty or so of these green fuckers, the frog-looking aliens that apparently had nothing better to do on an early Sunday morning than to invade Manhattan, crawling in the street, sixty feet below her.

Sure, she could wait for back-up. But where’s the fun in that? Blake grins, and leaps from the balcony, shooting a bunch of arrows as she free-falls. She catches herself at the last moment on a streetlamp, and slides down to the ground. A few aliens lay still in the middle of the street, arrows sticking out of their bodies, but the rest of them are now snarling and pointing laser guns at her.

“Come and get it!” Blake yells, and immediately cringes. She’ll have to work on her one-liners.

*

Yang is in the middle of doing what she does best - punching stuff - when her earpiece crackles back to life. “Hey sis,” she says, thrusting her metal fist into the face of a particularly ugly alien. There’s a satisfying _crunch_ ; she must have broken some teeth. “What’s up?”

“How are you guys doing over there?”

Yang puts her hands on her hips, looking around her. A pile of unconscious green dudes lay at her feet, and a few more are fleeing from her at this very moment. Nora, all hulked-out, is currently throwing cars at the mass of aliens in front of them. Pyrrha and Ren are up on the roof of a nearby building, dealing with the spaceship menacingly hovering above the city - Yang hears metal creaking and cries of fear from where she stands, so she figures it’s going well. “We got it under control,” she tells her sister, with a proud grin.

“Could you go check on Blake then?”

Her smile disappears. “Why? Is she in trouble?”

“She’s okay, but she took a hit to the head and I want her to have some back-up. You know how she is - she’s not gonna slow down.”

Yang snorts, pride and exasperation and fondness mixing in her chest. “So fucking _stubborn_. Don’t worry, I’ve got her.”

She takes off flying, swirling between high buildings until she catches sight of Blake fighting alone against a dozen or so aliens. She looks a little worse for wear, and Yang’s stomach tightens briefly when she sees the blood on her face.

She dives in, and slams both feet into one of the aliens’ stomach, so hard she sends him crashing through the nearest wall. Blake turns towards her, wide-eyed, and Yang offers her a grin. “Hey, princess. Need a hand?”

Blake ducks to avoid a laser shot, and swings her bow in a wide arc, hitting an alien square in the head. The creature crumples to the ground. “I told Ruby I was fine!” Blake yells, kicking another alien in the back.

She’s bleeding and covered in grime and soot, her hair a complete disaster, and - she’s so goddamn beautiful. Yang has always loved the way Blake fights, combining martial art precision and raw grittiness, arrows to the throat and elbows to the guts. It suits her well, that mix of elegance and brutal efficiency ; it makes her look _dangerous_ , and Yang stares, transfixed.

“Ow.”

Blake’s small grunt of pain shakes Yang out of it, and her eyes turn red. There’s a round hole in Blake’s jacket, and a burnt smell. She didn’t roll out of the way fast enough, and got caught by a laser beam. Yang, without another word, jumps into the fray.

She throws punches left and right, a hurricane of tight fists and heavy boots, while Blake takes a step back and shoots arrow after arrow. Yang gets hit by a few laser shots, and even one lucky kick from an alien who looks bewildered by his success before she knocks him out, but she doesn’t care - none of it hurts her even a little bit. It doesn’t take them long to finish the fight.

Afterwards, Blake goes to collect her arrows, plucking them without fuss from the corpses. It’s midday by now, and she looks so pretty in the sunlight, dark hair falling below her shoulders in waves.

Blake turns around, and catches her looking. “You’re staring,” she says, cocking her head.

Yang winks at her. Blake’s brown skin darkens across her cheeks.

“I don’t think you mind.”

Before Blake can answer, there’s a flash of red, and a screeching sound, and Ruby comes to a halt right in front of them, digging her heels so abruptly that the concrete splits under the sudden pressure. Yang sighs, a little disappointed. She loves her sister, but man, speedsters can be so annoying. Always interrupting.

“Blake! Yang! You’re okay?”

“Yep,” Yang says, grabbing Ruby’s cape and tugging her into a side hug. “Where’s Weiss?” she adds as Ruby groans and wiggles out of her hold.

“I’m here,” Weiss says softly right behind her, and Yang squeaks and jumps ten feet up in surprise, hovering in the air as Ruby bursts out laughing. She ignores her sister, and the quiet chuckle coming from Blake.

“God, Weiss, stop fucking doing that! Can’t you make noise when you teleport?”

Weiss looks up at her innocently. “Don’t be so dramatic, Yang. You make it sound like I do it on purpose.” Yang catches the minuscule twitch of Weiss’s lips, and sticks her tongue out.

Boom. Boom. Boom. The sound of heavy footsteps running towards them echoes in the quiet. In a matter of seconds, the mood changes - Blake has an arrow aimed at the corner of the street, Weiss moves her fingers in intricate circles, murmuring obscure words, Yang has her feet back on the ground, fists raised up defensively, and Ruby…

Well, Ruby just waits, hands lazily linked behind her head. _Speedsters_.

“Guys, I’m so hungry!” Nora yells as she rounds the corner, and there’s a brief instant of confusion before the four of them drop their fighting stance. It’s not a giant enemy coming at them - it’s a giant Nora, carrying Pyrrha and Ren on her shoulders, smiling widely.

Ruby rushes to them. “What happened to the spaceship?”

“Gone,” Pyrrha says, before she lets herself fall from Nora’s shoulder, landing perfectly. “The survivors piled up in it, and the ship took off. You guys okay?”

“Yeah,” Ruby says. “But we should meet up with Jaune. Some of us,” and she looks pointedly at Blake, “took unnecessary risks and got a little banged up as a result.”

Blake huffs. “I’m fine,” she repeats, pouting a little. It’s cute. She’s cute. Yang realizes she’s staring again, and turns her attention back to Pyrrha.

“Jaune texted me earlier. He’s waiting for us near a pizzeria on Third and Bleeker Street,” Pyrrha says, glancing at Nora, whose stomach is grumbling so loud it makes the gravel around them shake. “Why don’t we kill two birds with one stone, and get something to eat while he patches up Blake?”

Ruby throws a fist in the air. “Yay! Celebratory pizza!”

*

Blake would never admit it, but she is kind of relieved when Jaune, after a quick but efficient checkup in a secluded corner booth of the pizzeria, concludes she has no serious injuries.

“No need for stitches, though you’ll have to ice that shoulder tonight,” he says, with a reassuring pat on her arm. “Lemme clean up the wound on your face, and you’re good to go.”

He reaches for the first-aid supplies laid out on the table, but Blake bats his hand away. “I can do it.”

Jaune gives her a _look_ ; Blake stares back, stubborn. He raises his hands in defeat. “Fine, fine.”

He retreats, walking to the other side of the pizzeria to join the rest of their teammates currently feasting on pizza and garlic bread, and Blake closes her eyes, leans back against the bench and takes a deep breath.

She gets about thirty seconds of peace and quiet before she hears someone sliding on the seat opposite her. When she opens her eyes, Yang smiles, and pushes a huge slice of pizza towards her, almost knocking over a pile of bandages.

“I brought you some food,” she says. “It’s anchovy, your favorite.”

Blake feels blood rushing to her cheeks, annoyingly. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Jaune mentioned you might need some help with that head wound?”

As if he can feel Blake’s eyes burning a hole in his back all the way from across the room, Jaune’s shoulders tense, and he lowers his head in a futile attempt to hide. Traitor. She expected better from the only other non-superpowered human of the team.

Yang rests her elbows on the table, and leans toward Blake. “Come on, princess. Let me help. That’s what partners do.”

Blake’s stomach flips dangerously at the word _partners_ , and she doesn’t know how to feel about that, so instead of answering she crams a huge bite of pizza in her mouth. It’s cheesy, and very garlicky, and super delicious, and wow, Blake didn’t realize how hungry she was. She takes another bite.

Yang snorts. “Okay, I’ll take that as a yes.” While Blake chews, she opens a single-use gauze sponge and pours some alcohol on it. And then she reaches across the table, and grabs Blake’s chin between her thumb and forefinger. “Don’t move.”

Blake swallows, and does as she’s told.

Well, until the cloth touches the open gash on her temple, and she jerks away with an indignant yelp of pain.

Yang raises an eyebrow. “Belladonna, I’ve seen you get punched in the nose and you didn’t make a sound, but you can’t handle a little disinfectant?”

“It burns!” Blake grumbles, but when Yang holds her chin again, she stays still. Yang’s eyes are the color of fresh lavender, and her fingers feel warm on her skin. She’s so close, Blake can count every single freckle on her face, every eyelash, and it’s hard to remember that the girl in front of her is a mostly invulnerable super-strong half-human who can create portals to other dimensions with her _fists_ if she so desires.

She just looks like an average twenty-year-old girl. There’s tomato sauce on her jaw, and Blake, without thinking, raises a hand and wipes it off with her thumb. Yang’s eyes flicker to hers. The tip of her ears turn bright red.

She tapes the final piece of gauze onto Blake’s face. “All done,” she says, her voice rougher than usual. Blake licks her lips, and thinks of saying something along the lines of _wanna kiss it better?_

Instead, she jumps away from Yang’s touch when Ruby appears in front of their table without warning, in an abrupt flash of red. Ugh, _speedsters_. Always showing up unannounced. But Ruby’s face is serious, and Blake straightens up, suddenly attentive.

“I got a call from Director Ozpin,” Ruby explains, talking so fast her words all blend into each other. “SHIELD's secret underground base is under attack.”

“Ugh,” Yang groans. “What is it this time? Aliens? Robots? A pack of wild suburban moms?”

“I think he said… vampires?”

There’s a silence as they both process this information.

“Well,” Blake says eventually, eyeing her half-eaten slice of pizza with newfound respect. “Good thing we ate all that garlic.”

*********

_6 months ago_

When Yang comes back home after one year of traveling through countless parallel dimensions, she has gained a shiny metal arm, and lost any hope of reconnecting with her birth mother.

“Yeah, she doesn’t want anything to do with me,” she says, trying not to let the bitterness creep in her voice, once her father and sister let go of their tight embrace. Tai rubs her shoulder, gently.

“I’m sorry, kiddo.” Thankfully, he doesn’t say _I told you so_. He’d warned her, when she’d first announced her intention to go look for her, that Raven, an all-powerful being from another dimension, wouldn’t have much interest in her offspring. But Yang had thought, maybe, that if she could show her mom what she was capable of… After all, Qrow, Raven’s brother, had the same powers, and he cared about his nieces… Anyway, she was wrong. Doesn’t matter now. 

“What happened to you?” Ruby whispers, staring at Yang’s metal arm.

Ah, yes. “Space pirates. They ambushed me on my way to a remote planet, and almost killed me.” She winces, remembering the wound, the pain, the gut-wrenching fear that she would die all alone in space. “Ironwood found me, miraculously. He got me to his ship, patched me up, made me a brand new arm.”

“But you’re invulnerable!” Ruby protests, blanching. 

Yang grimaces. “Not when shot point blank with a plasma cannon, it turns out.” 

There’s a shocked silence. Tai goes up to the fridge, grabs himself a beer, and, after only a second of hesitation, hands one to Yang. “So what are you gonna do now?” he asks, voice more gravelly than usual.

“I’m not really sure. All this time, the only thing I wanted was to find Raven. But I did, and it was pointless, so I have no clue what’s next. And no, before you ask, I’m not going to freaking college.”

Tai lifts his hands up in surrender, but Ruby turns toward her, wearing a sly grin. “Actually, I have an offer for you...”

That same night, Yang meets Weiss Schnee, and discovers that while she was away, her little sister and her new best friend - _work associate_ , Weiss corrects, grimly - have been plotting to form an all-new superhero team. 

“Like the Avengers, but better. The Better Avengers. The Bettervengers?” Ruby says rapidly, walking in circles in the basement where the three of them are talking and sharing pizza. 

“We haven’t come up with a name yet,” Weiss says, wrinkling her nose at Ruby’s suggestions. “Our top priority right now is to recruit more members. That means you, Yang.”

It’s not like Yang is surprised by this turn of event. After all, Ruby is her mother’s daughter, through and through, and Summer was the most beloved hero the world has ever known. It’s been 15 years since she disappeared, and no one has had the guts to claim her superhero codename, Captain America. Ruby’s always wanted to make her proud.

As for Weiss, well, the heiress of the Schnee Company is bound to have some ambition. Plus, she’s the only one in her family to have been born with innate mystical power and the ability to manipulate reality - it’s no wonder she wants to make a name for herself. 

And, look. Yang _had_ been looking for a new life purpose, now that her search for motherly love is out of the picture. So she considers Weiss, carefully.

“Who else do you have in mind?”

Weiss folds her hands neatly on top of the table. “We should contact Pyrrha Nikos.”

“The Savior of Brooklyn? Yeah, that ain’t a bad idea,” Yang says, thinking aloud.

Pyrrha Nikos, a.k.a the Savior of Brooklyn, is a local celebrity. A year ago, at barely 19, she saved a couple hundred people from certain death when an evil megalomaniac named Cinder threatened to destroy the Brooklyn Bridge. Not only can she manipulate metal, she’s well versed in martial arts, _and_ still remains a genuinely kind, humble, gracious person.

The mayor even built her a statue, which is hilarious and also a fact Yang immediately brings up when they end up meeting with Pyrrha in a quaint coffeeshop in Queens.

“It was such a nice gesture, I didn’t know how to say no,” Pyrrha confesses, embarrassed, a pretty blush coloring her cheeks.

“Well, it’s good that some people still honor a heroine’s accomplishments,” Weiss replies, firmly, glaring at Yang. “ _Anyway_ , about our offer…” 

“I would love to, but I already have kind of a little team of my own…”

“Really?” Ruby interrupts, eagerly, mouth full of pastry. “That’s even better! Let’s all meet! There’s no such thing as too many superheroes in one team!”

Yang’s pretty sure there _is_ such a thing, in fact, but she trusts Pyrrha’s judgement in people, so she’s on board, and Weiss eventually relents as well. Pyrrha’s face brightens up, and she does a little sign with her hand. Across the coffeeshop, three people stand up and start walking in their direction. 

“You brought back-up to a friendly meeting?” Weiss says, half-accusatory, half-impressed.

Pyrrha shrugs. “Can’t be too careful. A lot of people want me dead, or incapacitated.”

Oh, she’s _good_. Yang likes her. She still eyes the newcomers cautiously, trying to discern the level of threat they pose. They seem nice. Normal. Human. Weiss, eyebrow raised, looking doubtful, asks for a demonstration of powers, and the boy with dark long hair who introduced himself as Ren closes his eyes.

Suddenly, Yang finds herself slumping against her seat, unwilling - and unable - to even raise her coffee cup to her lips. Everything seems duller, somehow, every movement harder, every thought a little foggy.

When the spell lifts, she stares at him, genuinely shaken. “So your power is… depression?” 

He smiles, softly. “Apathy.”

“That’s… useful,” Weiss concedes, toying with her spoon. She’s paler than before - clearly the experience was uncomfortable for everyone. 

“And I’m Nora, but I go by Hulkling!”, the red-headed girl says, loudly, with a somewhat dramatic fist pump. 

“Who?” Weiss asks, sharply.

“The daughter of the Hulk! The one and only!” 

Ruby furrows her brow. “I didn’t know the Hulk had children…”

“Spiritual daughter, whatever,” Nora waves the question off. “The important thing is, I can do _this_.” And then she starts _growing_ , her muscles bulging and stretching her clothes until it almost rips her shirt in half - which is when she stops. Yang slow-claps, nodding. That’s pretty damn cool. 

They all turn to the third guy, expectantly. He clears his throat.

“Jaune Arc, pre-med student, three-times winner of the Brooklyn Amateur Chess Tournament, nice to meet you all.”

Weiss narrows her eyes. “And _what_ do you bring to the table, exactly?”

“He’s a great medic, and an amazing strategist. Also my boyfriend,” Pyrrha replies, with a deceptively sweet smile. 

“Awesome,” Ruby says, as earnest as ever. “I love chess! Maybe we can play sometimes, cause both Yang and Weiss are _hopeless_ at it.”

“Rude,” Yang grumbles, out of principle. Weiss mutters something under her breath, and Ruby’s cinnamon bun mysteriously disappears.

“Weiss, nooo,” Ruby whines. She tries to steal Weiss's biscotti in retaliation - Yang hides her laughter behind her cup.

Pyrrha smiles, clearly amused. “So it’s decided? All of us, one team?”

That brings Ruby’s attention back to the matter at hand. She sobers up, and stands from her chair, looking down at their little circle. “We all have to promise, if we’re doing this. To work together, to do what’s right, to support each other.”

Pride swells inside Yang’s chest - her little sister, all grown up. She places a hand flat on the table, and smiles at Ruby. “I’m in.”

One after the other, they all agree. At the end, Ruby grins, ecstatic. “Alright then, it’s done! We are now officially _team Revengers_!”

Everyone winces. “Let’s just settle on a name later,” Weiss sighs, sounding like she deeply regrets every decision that has lead her down this path. 

*

Blake Belladonna is a menace. 

Yang’s heard of her, of course. Who hasn’t? The daughter of Kali and Ghira Belladonna, two famous civil rights activists, she got into Columbia _and_ qualified for the Olympic Gymnastic team in the same year. Gossip about her is aplenty: she’s a prodigy, some say ; she’s a pretentious hack, others murmur. 

Yang is not one to form an opinion without first-hand experience, so she’s unbiased when she first catches a glimpse of Blake at a civil rights rally organized by her parents. Ren heard from a source that the event was gonna be hijacked by an extremist group - there even was talk of a bombing - so the team all convened at the rally. They’re now scattered amid the crowd, waiting for any hint that something nefarious is afoot. Except Yang, who sits on a rooftop, legs dangling, and watches with interest from her vantage point as Blake walks up the stage, and takes the mic’. She’s _amazing_ \- her speech is short and well-written, to the point, galvanizing ; her voice carries out, firm but sincere.

Also, she’s hot, but that’s neither here nor there. Though it leads to Yang allowing herself to fantasize about various scenarios in which she’d save Blake’s life, and maybe get a thank-you kiss as a result. Whatever, sue her, a girl on a lookout has to pass the time somehow.

What she doesn’t expect, though, is for Blake to end up saving _them_. 

They’re not quite _coordinated_ yet, is the problem. 

When twenty-five or so people wearing masks suddenly pop up through the crowd, yelling and attacking innocent bystanders, they all react quickly enough - but they don’t act as a team, which means they all get isolated from each other real fast. The crowd panics, everyone running in every direction, unclear as to who the bad guys are in the confusion. But the mysterious masked people are organized, moving with strategy and intent, overwhelming the amateur heroes easily.

So they’re loosing, basically, until they gain an unexpected ally.

At first, Yang doesn’t realize who’s helping them. She’s surrounded by three masked weirdos - one lies, unconscious, at her feet. She’s about to throw a wild left hook, when her target gasps and crumples before she even hits him, the hilt of a knife protruding from his back, right between the shoulder blades. Frowning, she blocks a weak punch from a frail guy with a ponytail, just as her third assailant, a tall bulky woman, falls to her knees with a yelp of pain, a knife embedded deep in her thigh.

Yang takes the time to finish Ponytail Man before turning around, and yep, there’s Blake, throwing one last knife at a guy harassing Ren. Damn. Maybe she shouldn’t find a girl throwing knives so attractive, but, well, it is what it is.

And then her jaw drops, because Blake _leaps_ from the stage, throwing her body in a perfect arc in the air. She lands right beside Pyrrha, kicking one woman right in the face as she does, knocking her out cold. Before Pyrrha can even react, Blake’s running, slaloming between attackers, punching two of them in the ribs before a third one catches her by the collar and slams his big fist in her face. 

Yang curses and takes off flying, eyes flashing red, but Blake is already twisting out of the guy’s hold. She jabs a knee in his guts, and finish the job with a nice elbow to the sternum. And then she keeps moving, lunging at one of the assholes surrounding Weiss. Yeah, Yang maybe falls in love a little bit.

When the last of the masked goons flee, Yang looks for Blake in the crowd, and finds her wiping sweat from her face with the back of her hand. There’s a bad bruise already shading her jaw with purple. Yang breathes out, and in a split second, makes a decision. She propels herself in Blake’s direction - but Ruby gets there first, in a blur of red.

“Thanks for the help, you were _awesome_!” Ruby says, with a bright, inviting, smile, right as Yang lands near the two of them. “We’re the _Cooler Avengers_ , the new superhero team in town. What’s your superpower?”

“I don’t have any, and you guys are the worst superhero team I’ve ever seen,” Blake replies, drily. Ruby takes a step back.

“Wanna join us?” Yang asks, on an impulse. Ruby takes _another_ step back, looking very confused, but Yang ignores her. She’s staring at Blake.

“I…what?” Blake stammers, eloquently.

“We could use someone with your talents, honestly. You seem pretty handy with knives - your target accuracy is fucking incredible -, you fight like a pro, and that jump you did? I can see why you competed in the Olympics.”

“I’m also the best archer you’ve ever met,” Blake adds quickly, before frowning. “Not the point, though. Why would I even want to join your team of wannabe superheroes?”

“Because you _want_ to be a hero, of course,” Yang replies, confident. “I heard your speech, you obviously wanna do some good in the world. And what you’re already doing is amazing, don’t get me wrong, but look, you saved our asses back there. You got skills, Blake, it’d be a waste not to use all of them for good.” And then Yang winks. “And because I can tell you like me already, princess.”

There’s a silence. “ _The Cooler Avengers_ is a really stupid name,” Blake points out, unconvincingly. It sounds like a last-ditch effort, especially considering the smile pulling at the corner of her lips.

“We’re not set on the name yet,” Yang says, easily, because they’re not, but _she_ is set on _Blake_.

*

A week after the attack, they are summoned to the Avengers tower. They take the subway, to avoid drawing unnecessary attention, and spend the entire time bickering about team names. Yang develops a slight headache.

“What if we take the first letter of each of our names,” Ruby blabbers, “and combine them to form…”

“I’m stopping you right there,” Weiss says, categorically. “That’s the dumbest idea you’ve had yet. Which is saying something.”

Ruby pouts. Pyrrha pats her shoulder, kindly. “It doesn’t matter what we call ourselves,” she says, addressing the lot of them. “What matters is that we’re doing the right thing, protecting the innocent, and the Avengers are about to tell us how they want us to help.”

“What we want,” Director Ozpin says, half an hour later, “is for you _not_ to help.”

There’s a brief, incredulous silence, and then the conference room fills with protests. 

“You want us to stop?” Weiss says, in the shrillest voice Yang’s ever heard.

“Correct,” Ironwood retorts. He steps forward, and they all shut up at once. He’s not wearing his metal suit, but he’s still the most recognizable hero after Captain America, and they’re intimidated by his presence, despite the whole situation. “You’ve done well, but you are still children, far too young to have the kind of responsibilities….”

“I’m not a damn child,” Yang hisses, arms crossed in front of her chest, showcasing the metal prosthesis he built for her. “I thought you of all people would remember this.”

He looks pained for a moment. Jaune licks his lips, nervously. “With all due respect, sir, we’ve been handling a lot of evil people the Avengers haven’t had time to deal with, lately. We prevented the attack on the rally, saved a lot of lives… How could all of this be a bad thing?”

“It’s not,” Glynda Goodwitch intervenes. Yang’s eyes are drawn to the famous hammer hanging from her belt - in all her time traveling through dimensions, she’s never met a real Asgardian, let alone the actual goddess of thunder. “But you have no training, and you are putting yourselves in danger.”

“They already _are_ in danger,” someone says bitterly from behind them. Oh, Yang knows that gritty voice. She exchange a quick look with Ruby, who grimaces, and they both turn around to greet their uncle Qrow. 

The Black Widow, as he’s known among enemies and friends alike, is a deadly combatant, a super-powered being, and an excellent spy. He’s also known in the Xiao-Long-Rose household for being a touch too enthusiastic about alcohol and sucking at Mario Kart. 

“Hi, Uncle Qrow,” Ruby says, smiling. Yang waves, a little more cautious.

Behind him, two people stand, observing the debate in silence: Hazel, better known as the Hulk, and Sienna Khan, leaning against the wall, her trademark bow carelessly slung across her shoulders. Blake stiffens, and Yang resists the urge to get closer and comfort her. She’s only known Blake for a week, but she’s already gathered how much Blake looks up to Sienna. Meeting her childhood hero and inspiration is bound to leave her nervous.

And Blake’s not the only one a little bit starstruck. “I can’t believe we’re meeting all of the Avengers at once, _ohmygod_. Ren, can you believe it?” Nora whispers, way too loud. Ren doesn’t reply, too busy staring at everything and everyone with wide, awed eyes.

“Qrow, what do you mean?” Ozpin’s voice is measured, his chin resting on his joined hands, the picture of calm and dignity.

“I _mean_ that they all got targets on their backs, just for being who they are. Better they work together, as a team, instead of cowering at home, waiting on their asses until an evil genius tries to kill them, kidnap them, or worse, _turn_ them.”

The Avengers all start arguing after that, and Yang and the others hover awkwardly on the sideline, waiting for the verdict. This is not what they expected to happen at all. Which, in retrospect, was pretty naive of them, Yang can’t deny it. Of course, the original superhero team isn’t going to just give their blessing to a bunch of teenagers with superpowers and zero experience.

Eventually, though, they come to a consensus, and Glynda addresses them. “Will you agree to come and train regularly at our SHIELD facility?”

“Yes,” Blake replies, firmly. Sienna eyes her with interest, and walks up to them.

“What about obeying orders from us? Are you capable of that?”

“Sure,” Yang says, with a shrug. “We trust you guys.”

“Speaking of trust, you’ll have to be sworn to secrecy. You can’t divulge any of the information we pass on to you to the public. Can you promise _discretion_?” Ozpin looks pointedly at Nora as he speaks, and she nods vigorously. 

“Stay low-key, got it.”

He chuckles, and then grows serious again. “We also need you to choose a leader among yourselves. Someone who’s trustworthy, honorable, someone you can rely on to make the right call.” 

“Ruby,” Yang offers immediately. Nobody fits this description better than her little sister. The others agree without hesitation and Ruby, cheeks turned pink, opens her mouth, startled. She doesn’t speak ; instead she looks at Yang, and Yang winks at her. “You’re gonna do great, sis,” she says, softly, genuine. 

“Alright, then,” Ironwood concludes, sounding only slightly displeased with the outcome. “We’ll be in touch.”

“Wait.” Sienna motions for Blake to come closer. “I’ve heard you’re pretty good with a bow. That true?”

Blake swallows, hesitates, and then smiles, a little arrogant. “I’m the best.”

There’s a pause, and Sienna lets out a laugh. “Cute.” She unhooks the strap of her bow, and hands it to a very stunned, wide-eyed Blake. “Don’t break it, kid, this is a loan. Give it back to me when you feel you’ve made good use of it.” 

Blake smiles so brightly, it tugs at Yang’s heart, and she swallows, a little concerned by how fast she’s grown to like this girl. 

“Oh, wait,” Ruby says, just as they’re about to take the elevator back to the ground floor. “What should we call ourselves?”

Ozpin peers at them above the rim of his glasses, and takes a sip of his coffee. “Why, the Young Avengers, of course. That’s what you are, after all.”

*********

_Present day, approximately 5pm_

Fighting vampires is way less fun than movies would have you think. For one thing, they keep trying to bite you, which may sound hot, but when the vampire in question looks like a cadaver with sunken eyes and terrible breath, it’s decidedly _not_.

“As a known Twilight fan, care to comment on the accuracy of the vampires depicted in the series, now that you’ve seen them in real life?”

“I’m not a Twilight fan,” Blake denies, breathlessly. They’re badly outnumbered, two against at least thirty, but _of course_ , Yang would choose this moment to start making fun of her taste in literature. 

Yang, flying close to the ground, laughs as she thrusts herself right in the middle of a cluster of monsters - not unlike a human-shaped bowling ball. “Don’t lie to me, princess. I’ve seen the books in your locker.”

“I’m” - Blake shoots an arrow into the throat of a tall, hairless vampire - “not” - she spins around and sinks one in the heart of another creep lurking behind her - “lying!”

She punctuates her last word with a well-placed punch to the jaw, dislocating it easily, and finally gets a second to catch her breath. She glares at Yang. “I was holding them for Weiss.”

“Sure you were,” Yang drawls, teasingly. She’s using one vampire as a living - well, _undead_ \- baseball bat, holding onto his ankles and swinging him around to swat down vampires like they’re mere mosquitoes.

Blake doesn’t dignify this with an answer, focusing instead on the remaining enemies, but try as she might, she can’t be annoyed when Yang looks at her like that, red eyes crinkling and a mouth more inviting than it has any rights to be. No, she is _far_ from annoyed. The truth is, she’s never felt more like herself than when fighting with Yang at her side.

As soon as the two of them finish off the last of the vampires, they both press a finger to the small communication device in their ear.

“Ruby, can you hear me?” Yang whispers. “Blake and I just cleared out another room full of vamps. Where are you guys?”

Ruby’s reply comes through after a brief pause, bad signal making her words difficult to understand. “Main west corrid… still… fighting!” 

“Then we’re gonna press on,” Blake says, ignoring the worry swelling in her stomach. “Any news from the others?”

“Everyone… okay… Ozp… not found.”

“Copy that, we’ll keep our eyes peeled. Talk soon, be safe.”

Yang taps her earpiece, and the line falls silent. Blake cocks her head, taking in Yang’s clenched jaw, the way her non-metal hand trembles ever so slightly.

“She’s our leader,” Blake says, softly, “she can take care of herself.”

Yang takes a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s do this, then.”

Blake sends her a small smile, before walking to the opposite side of the room, where a locked door stands between them and the next batch of tunnels. Yang could easily punch it open, but they’re trying to be stealthy, so Blake retrieves the lock-pick hidden in her hair, and gets to work.

*

When the Young Avengers got to SHIELD’s secret headquarters in the early afternoon, everything was eerily silent, no signs of life, no lights, full power outage. So, a trap, obviously. Ruby tried calling Ozpin, to no avail, so eventually she gave the order: partner up, spread out, find out what the hell is going on.

“We all have earpieces! If you’re in trouble, call for help - some of us can come to the rescue quickly,” Ruby’d said, before Weiss and her disappeared through the West entrance. 

Blake and Yang had taken the North side. SHIELD’s underground base is a maze - made specifically to confuse any intruder. They all know the layout well enough, but without lights or electricity to power the doors, it’s a slow progression toward the command center.

And then, of course, there’s the fact that they’re not alone. Hiding in the narrow tunnels and dark rooms, dozens upon dozens of vampires, waiting for them. This is the third room Blake and Yang find infested, and they’re now in another tunnel, probably on their way to more of the same. It’s been hours of having to constantly stay on their guards. Blake’s no pessimist, but between the battle this morning leaving her pretty beat, and the throbbing pain of her head wound, it’s starting to feel like today might not end well.

Thankfully, she’s with Yang - invulnerable, beautiful, perfect Yang, who… Wait, what? Blake narrows her eyes as she keeps making her way down the seemingly empty tunnel, one hand on the wall to guide herself. Since when does she think of Yang as _perfect_? Beautiful, sure, she has eyes, but perfect seems like crossing a line…

It happens too fast. One minute she’s walking, thinking about Yang, distracted, the next she’s on her back, pain radiating from her injured shoulder, and a pair of hands choking her. There’s a weight on her thighs, like someone is straddling her, and the sound of a commotion behind her, but Blake’s brain can only focus on one thing: the terrifying fact that she can’t breathe.

She claws at the forearms of her attacker, bucks her hips, tries a head kick, but nothing works. If anything, the grip around her throat grows even tighter. Blake’s vision turns entirely black, and she panics, thrashing violently against the person holding her. All of a sudden, the hands slacken, and air flows into her lungs, wonderfully painful.

Blake gasps. “Get up!” Yang yells from somewhere to her right. “There’s more of them!”

She rolls around, finds the wall, and pulls herself to her feet, shakily. Her throat feels raw, her head is pounding, and for the first time ever since she started this superhero gig, she’s actually afraid. In the dark, she only sees silhouettes, erratic movements. Yang, in the center of the storm, red eyes glinting familiarly. But something is wrong. These vampires are much faster than the ones they fought before, less zombie-like, and more…

It dawns on Blake, suddenly, that the hands around her neck were warm. 

Cursing, she turns on her headlamp, illuminating the scene, and sure enough, these aren’t vampires, but regular humans. Though regular is not quite the right term: the way they’re swarming Yang, overwhelming her, evading her attacks with ease, points out to Blake that they are trained in combat. Soldiers of some kind, she guesses. Or a militia.

Seven of them keep their eyes on Yang, but three turn toward Blake when the light hits them. They’re wearing the same masks, the ones from the rally, hiding their faces.

 _Okay, this is bad_ , Blake thinks, for the second time in the same day. She notches an arrow onto her bow, back against the wall.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Her voice comes out hoarse, the after-effect of being almost choked to death. 

They don’t say anything, circling her like predators. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Yang landing a hit so powerful, it sends the man flying fifteen feet away. His body slams against the wall, and slowly slides down onto the ground, unmoving.

Emboldened, Blake shoots, hits her target with a satisfying thud - the woman to her left, right in the meaty part of her arm - and notches another arrow, fingers steady. The woman simply breaks the arrow in half, leaving the tip embedded in her flesh, and keeps moving toward Blake.

It’s not a fair fight, three against one, and Blake already in bad shape. The wound on her temple reopens, blood dripping in her eye, obscuring her vision. It hurts to swallow, her shoulder aches, and even though she keeps them at bay, she’s too slow to block all their hits. One of her three assailants goes down with an arrow in the mouth, but the other two are still standing, still attacking, and Blake is now bleeding from multiple wounds. She glances at Yang, who’s still fighting five enemies all by herself, and touches her earpiece.

“Guys, we could use some back-up,” she wheezes out, between gritted teeth. 

One of the two lunges at her, and she takes the hit, a fist to the upper chest that sends her reeling backward. She shoots again, and watches with dark joy the woman swaying, then dropping face-first at her feet.

“That’s what you get… when you ambush… the best archer in the world…” 

Blake falls to her knees, panting. She tastes blood in her mouth, and she tries to raise her bow, but her arms are too heavy, and it clatters on the ground, useless.

“Blake!” she hears, distantly, and then the sound of flesh hitting flesh. The last man standing in front of her pulls a knife out from his belt. Her hands move instinctively, blocking the hit that would have killed her. He lets out a groan of surprise, and before he can react, she’s twisted the weapon out of his hand, turned it against him.

The man looks down, silently, at the knife stuck in his chest, and, still silently, falls backward. 

Blake wipes the blood from her face - her hand is shaking. Her bow. She needs to find her bow. Sienna gave her that bow, told her to make good use of it. But everything hurts so much…

She’s still kneeling on the ground when Yang appears before her, dropping to her knees as well, eyes frantic. “Blake, you okay? Talk to me!”

“I’m okay,” Blake breathes out, not super convincingly. Her head lolls to the side, and Yang’s hands cup her cheeks, gently, holding her upright. Blake blinks, looking at her. There’s no one left to fight, she realizes. Yang looks weary but altogether fine, no wounds visible.

“You look fine,” Blake drawls, and then giggles. “ _Fine_ , get it? Cause you’re pretty.”

Okay, so she might be a bit delirious. Yang smiles, but the worry doesn’t disappear from her face. She looks Blake up and down, silently cataloguing her injuries. “Fuck,” she mutters, under her breath.

It’s getting very hard to keep her eyes open. Blake slumps a little against Yang’s body, eyelids fluttering. 

“Hey, hey, don’t close your eyes, princess. Keep looking at me!”

There’s something in Yang’s voice, something Blake’s never heard from her before. Terror? No, that can’t be right. Yang is so strong, she can’t be afraid of anything. Blake’s muddled brain turns back to her train of thoughts from before the attack. Yang: invulnerable, beautiful… Oh, that’s right.

“You’re perfect,” she slurs, dreamily, and then, because Blake Belladonna is nothing if not the picture of class and elegance, she spits a mouthful of blood on the ground, and promptly passes out in Yang’s arms.

*

There’s only deep, impenetrable darkness around her, but she hears familiar voices, echoing from very far away.

“Weiss, do something!”

“You know I can’t, Yang! My powers have limits, and the human body is too complex to…” 

The words fade away. Blake fights against the dark, trying to wake up. Now, she hears hurried footsteps - people are running, getting closer.

“Pyrrha! Are the four of you okay?”

“They’re following us! There’s no time!”

A crash, and somebody’s pulling her up, lifting her body, and then Yang’s voice rings out, clearer than the rest: “Everyone, _follow me_!”

And then the darkness takes her again.

*

When Blake wakes up, she’s lying on freshly cut grass, her head resting on something soft. It’s night, but there’s a bright torchlight shining right into her eyes, and her entire team huddled around her, in various states of worry. 

Few things she notices immediately. First, her entire body hurts like a motherfucker. Second, Jaune is the one holding the torchlight, and there’s blood on the front of his shirt. Third, her head is on Yang’s lap. Fourth, she sees tall buildings peeking from behind the trees around her, and blinks, confused. What the hell are they doing in Central Park? 

She tries to ask this very question, but all that comes out is a small “Ow”. Everyone lets out a sigh of relief nonetheless. 

“How are you feeling?” Ruby asks, from her right side. Blake realizes Ruby’s holding her hand, so she squeezes her fingers, trying to reassure her. She knows how worried Ruby gets when she’s hurt.

“Peachy,” she replies, drily, and moves to sit up. 

“Woah, woah, take it easy,“ Yang says, with firm hands on Blake’s shoulders, pushing her back down. 

“Yang’s right, you need to be careful. I’ve patched you up as good as I could, but you lost a lot of blood.” Jaune finally moves the light away from Blake’s eyes. 

“Thanks for that,” Blake says, squinting at the blood on Jaune’s shirt. Yeah, definitely hers.

Jaune shakes his head. “Don’t thank me. If Yang hadn’t portaled all of us out of there, I couldn’t have done a damn thing - we were completely surrounded. She probably saved your life.”

 _Oh_. Blake looks up, and finds Yang staring at her. Her eyes are back to purple now, wide and intense and filled with an emotion Blake can’t quite decipher.

“Thanks,” Blake manages. Her mouth feels too dry.

“Don’t mention it,” Yang says, softly. Her hand moves from Blake’s shoulder to her cheek, warm and gentle on Blake’s skin. 

Weiss’s face pops up in her line of sight, paler than usual. “Seriously Blake, what did I tell you just this morning? _Stay in one piece_. You don’t have superpowers, for Pete’s sake.”

She inhales, shakily, and glares at Blake, mouth set in a determined line. “When all of this is over, you’re on bedrest for a week, _no arguments_.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna fight you on this one, Weiss,” Blake says, weakly. She’s thankful, truthfully, that they all _care_ so much. 

So for the next ten or so minutes, she lies down, dutifully, head still held on Yang’s lap, and lets everyone fuss over her, while Ruby updates her on the situation.

“We all fought a lot of vampires, and Nora and Ren also got ambushed by the masked people. They’re definitely the same group that attacked your rally, six months ago, but we still don’t really know what that means. Only that they’re organized, and professionally trained, and clearly have a plan.” 

“And no words from the Avengers?”

Ruby chews her lip. “Nothing. It’s like they’ve disappeared from the face of the earth. Weiss tried teleporting to the Tower, but it’s crawling with those weird frog aliens we fought this morning.”

That’s not good. “So it’s all connected?” Blake grimaces. 

Ren nods, grimly. “We’re just not sure who’s behind it, and what they want. Only that they’ve either taken the Avengers prisoners, or sent them elsewhere, or…”

He doesn’t finish his thought, but no one needs him to. _Or, they’re already dead_. Blake swallows, painfully. She thinks of Sienna. “My bow, is it…?”

“It’s right here,” Nora replies, quickly. Blake exhales through her nose. Okay, that’s _one_ good news, at least.

Pyrrha rests a gentle hand on her knee. “If you feel up to it, we should move. I don’t think we’re safe staying still too long.”

She’s right, and so Blake gets up, carefully, slowly, with Yang’s help. She takes a few steps, and gives her friends two thumbs up. “Nothing’s broken!”

Yang laughs, but she keeps her metal arm tight around Blake’s waist as they start walking toward the city. Blake doesn’t mind too much - the truth is, her whole body feels like one giant bruise. In fact, she walks so slowly, the two of them fall behind the others a bit.

“So you saved my life, huh?” Blake says, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah. It wasn’t quite as romantic as what I’d imagined, princess,” Yang replies, with a small smile. “More like, terrifying.”

Blake squeezes her hand, and then smirks, going for light-heartedness. “You spend a lot of time thinking about saving me?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say _a lot of time_. Only like, once or twice a day. You know, normal stuff.”

“Yeah, that’s not creepy at all.”

Yang snorts, and lowers her gaze as they keep walking through Central Park, metal arm cool and strong around Blake’s waist. “You called me perfect,” she whispers, almost shy, not looking at Blake. 

The memory rushes back to Blake, vividly. She hesitates. “Yeah, I…” She what? Was delirious and about to pass out? Didn’t mean it? But she _did_ mean it, is the thing, delirious or not. Blake steels herself. “Well, it’s true.”

Yang stills, and her arm falls from Blake’s waist. Blake turns around to face her, and she finds that same unidentified emotion in Yang’s eyes - but this time, her mind is clearer, and she’s pretty sure she knows what it means.

So she stands on the tip of her toes, despite her sore ribs and the twinge in her shoulder and the bruises around her throat and the fact that she probably, most likely, has a concussion, and presses her lips against Yang’s, firmly.

Yang closes her eyes, and both her arms come around Blake’s body, like she’s just been waiting for permission to hold her. She kisses back, slow and sweet, her tongue following the line of Blake’s lower lip before pushing past, into Blake’s mouth.

They kiss for a long time, and Blake forgets about all of it - the pain in her body, the fear and the worry rising in her stomach, their mysterious enemies and the disappearance of their mentors and what it all means for her, for them, for the Young Avengers sworn to protect the world.

Because the world, right now, contains only Yang’s tongue and her lips and her breath on Blake’s face and her arms around Blake and her soft, careful, powerful hands on Blake’s back. Everything else can wait.

When they pause to catch their breath, Yang puts a bit of distance between them, grinning. “By the way, I asked Weiss, and she said those Twilight books were definitely yours.”

“Shut up,” Blake mumbles, smiling, and then actually shuts her up with another kiss.


End file.
